Never Alone
by Iesu
Summary: Two souls of a forbidden love, forced to loneliness by separate planes of existence. When a fallen king yearns for the comfort only the girl from the Mystic moon can give, it is but the hatred of the world that destroys their bliss. The first feather.
1. The Phantom's Shadow

Rewriting the whole fic from the very beginning, taking what was good from before (or at least what I think was good) and adding a little more spice to the mix... Heck, it's one in the morning when I wrote this so don't expect anything spectacular... Just enjoy...

Prologue

The evening stars gleamed upon the skies, a sight of a thousand fireflies too far to reach with an echo of the smallest hope that would exist. No moon upon the skies marked this day, waning orbs that disappeared every so often. Was it a prediction of things to come, or just a natural occurrence upon the streams of life that seasons uphold, it was never to be known. Upon the background formed white drops, frozen upon their descent, too little to even call meager, as upon their descent, they quickly vanished in the muddied streets. Echoes of frightfully howls of wolves created the scene as the dark twists and turns of the closed town seemed to move on to forever. The back-water town that existed on the outskirts of a country long forgotten slept soundly, silently, with only the smallest of candle light to cover the streets.

This site had remained a silent memory of what glory was, what it should've been. Now it was only a ruin, a silent and hidden haven for stragglers and squatters, beggars with nowhere else to go and even less to live on their own. It was small, perhaps too small that it evades outside attention.

Phaentome, the name of the town, with the silent wisps of wind and the ceaseless howls at night, where the clouds seem to descend each morning, your vision blurred until you could not even see your own arms, where the nights seemed colder than most, lonelier than most. Places that existed out of sight, out of mind, where secrets made and secrets kept are secrets never to leave, until that is the moment the secret leaves the town.

Shadows danced through the smallest of illumination of candle-light, winds fleeting, flickering yellow flames and flaring embers that did not even give the minutest of heat to anyone that would surround. The winds fluttered once again with movement, a mass of shadow leaping to another twist of the road, to another dark shade, robes heavy with moisture and dirtied with blood, dark blood, showed of a battle long passing. Blade held by the shadow's side, only dark eyes visible through the hood that covered his face, white breath escaping his lips, heavy breath of one that seemed to have run a thousand miles, maybe even more, and desperate for solitude.

Holding his blade close to his side, its hilt battered where the once cryptic carvings and intricate knife work were now dull, undeterminable scribbles, almost similar to those that foul scratch on trees and the ground in their search for sustenance, with no other purpose but as a hole, a movement of the earth. Licking dry lips, his hand gripped the weathered hilt tightly; a grip that would make it seem it was the life he was holding on to dearly.

His free hand moved upon his chest, the silent crimson gem held in a simple lace rubbed against the center of his palm, his hand moving into a fist, holding the small mass tight, more so than with his own blade, as if his very soul, his very sanity depended upon its existence, the unspoken promise.

The shadows shifted to another line, the figure leaning back, his head tilted to the side, behind the corner, his eyes narrowing, breath controlled, his eyes wandering left and right, upon every direction where darkness lay, seeing something that most others cannot. A sound of a howl, different from a wolf's, almost the sound of a horn made clear to him his destination as it stood higher than any other structure in the immediate vicinity. Robe pulled to the side, he immediately leapt out upon the muddied road once again, his movement creating a small splash that sounded through the alleyway, a crow squeaking in unison with his movement as a flock of darkness flew off to the skies, settling high upon the bridge of rooftops, the spine that held its structure in a triangular form.

He paid no regard to any of the movement; the shadow had only one intent. His breath a non-rhythmic huff and puff, creating white air that swirled off in tendrils until it dissipated with the midnight cold. He leaned back upon the structure's wall, head darting from side to side, eyeing each corner, each space that could be taken in with a glance before tilting his head to the wall, voicing out a few words in a bare whisper, his fist knocking against the wooden wall.

The camouflage that is the wall disappeared as it moved with a creak, slow streams of light piercing the darkness, warmth from within evident with the white air that pushed into the cold of the night, tendrils reaching out into the open. The robed figure licked dry lips before crouching low to the ground, his head turning left and right once again while his movements quickly carried him to within the structure, the door closing quickly with an inaudible thud, hiding once again on the wall as if nothing was ever there.

The robed figure pulled back his hood, taking in a breath of the warmth, his eyes half closed, trying to adjust with the almost blinding light to where he had come from, sweat trickling down his brow, cold sweat, with glistening white solid moisture upon his brow and hair, quickly turning liquid, following the trail left behind by the fallen perspiration. His hand raised to his cheek, rubbing off the irritation with a low growl, his head moving around the room as he widened his vision, pulling off the soiled robe, his hand moving the cloth aside, releasing it to fall to the ground quickly, moisture and dirt that had accumulated making it heavier than it should've been.

Another stood beside him, the same one who opened the door, blonde hair moving with the tilt of his head, brushing off the mud that had splattered from the robes, shaking his head as he voiced, his tone a slight of wonder and mock, "Wasn't that white when you left?"

He simply shrugged of the comment, not even giving it the moment of acknowledgement, the blonde haired man moving towards the table, taking a tankard of steaming broth, walking back towards him, his voice once again moving through, "And you smelled a whole lot better."

He shook his head, the unnoticeable curve that moved at the edge of his lips made it certain that his face wasn't made of stone, the moment that passed quickly, his face replaced into the same grim one that had almost always been there, grabbing the tankard greedily, taking a hurried sip then quickly releasing it to the ground. A small splash escaped the lip of the steel container, a clank as it fell on the floor where luckily it had set upon its end, standing straight from the floor, still warm, to the point of steaming.

"Idiot." The blonde haired man shook his head slowly, running his shoe against the drop of splatter, spreading it into nothingness as his lips moved, "Of course it's hot."

The once robed figure shook his head, almost to speak when the door on the far end of the room creaked open, light piercing through the door, the room behind it evident with movement with a fireplace the only light within the room. The one who had opened the door glanced upon the two, nodding towards them as they nodded in return, the once robed figure taking the tankard upon his hand, taking a small sip as he moved into the room with the blonde haired man.

The scent of blood wafted through the air as a figure clad in dark blue armor stared down upon the corpse of a personality unfamiliar to any of them, his forehead a wrinkle of distaste, his foot kicking the lifeless body closer to the fire place for all to see.

Upon the sound of the two's steps, he did not even glance up from his stare at the corpse, his voice a haunting melody as it echoed through the half-illuminated room, "We've been… compromised…"

"This early..?" The once robed figure stepped forth from the shadows with a rumble from his belly and an eye filled with the most inquisitive of glances.

The blue clad man nodded in reply, not moving his head, his eyes, his gaze off from where it was, his hand straightening to form upon his side, finger pointing towards the table, "The accommodations are meager, Lord Van… But they will have to do…"

The once robed figure, known as the fallen king of Adon, tilted his head towards the blonde haired man by him, his form shifting in stance as he as well stared upon the corpse, the voice of the blonde haired man a slight held back, "Fruit and cheese… Can never go wrong…"

The fallen king shrugged, moving towards the table in a quick stride, he placed the tankard of broth down with the softest of taps, grabbing greedily the pieces of sliced bread and cheese amassed in a platter in no particular design.

Voices echoed upon the room, conversation between the two behind him, almost in hushed whispers, tone and inflection even more difficult to determine than to what they were speaking off.

"Black Dragon saboteur." One voiced with distaste, his words not lingering any longer as the shift of plates and the soft clang of armor movement followed his words, a thud upon the floor speaking of his crouch upon the ground, a closer look at the now incapacitated invader.

"Then they know of our location." Another voiced behind him, smoother and richer in tone, followed by a couple of taps upon hardwood, almost of steps of movement.

The shadows shifted with the flicker of the flames in the hearth, movement told with each turn of the shadow, all observed by the fallen king from the corner of his eye. He took another sip of the steaming broth, another greedy bite from the bread, and another almost choking gulp down.

"It is probable… Or maybe they are just paranoid." The distaste still remained in one's voice, flesh seemed to shift here and there, the voice continued as if speaking to itself, "Female… Black Dragon…"

"…only send males when the task is of utmost certainty…" The fallen king voiced to his back through a slightly muffled tone, a mouth half filled with broth and cheese.

"That would mean…" The smooth voice once again echoed through the room, though this time with a hint of uncertainty.

The shift of steel only marked a nod from the blue armored personality, not another word spoken as the body wriggled slightly from the floor boards, a half-dead movement.

"She's alive?" The smooth voice lost some of its edge, a few steps following it once again, tapping upon the floors hastily, almost rushed, a sense of surprise.

The sound of tankard material thud upon wood echoed across the room, the fallen king brushed off crumbs from his face before turning, moving closer to the beaten woman, naked upon the floor, shivering unnoticeably. The blue clad man made no reply as he continued to stare at the figure lying upon the ground.

Blade singing upon the air marked the fallen king's approach, an uncertain tone followed his movement at his side, "Van, it's not…"

But the voice was cut as the blade moved down, point first towards the woman, with a swift sound of the wind, moving between her thighs, slowly moving them, coercing her to move them apart, lest she wished to be cut. She followed without fail, her eyes still cast down as the three figures in the room moved closer, the fallen king crouching down to have a closer look.

"Where's her tattoo?" The smooth voiced had been replaced almost as quickly as it came, as quickly as the change of events, the shift of shadows and flicker of flames once again creating the only ruckus in the room.

The blue armored man leaned by the fallen king, taking a closer inspection, observing the woman's eyes filled with fear and doubt, slowly down to her unmarked body, only wounds and bruises pelted upon her, his voice low and gruff, "Not black dragon."

The fallen king did not give a reply, pulling his blade back into his sheathe, the song of the blade echoing in the room as it made its home into the hardened scabbard, his voice bearing a hard effect, authority obvious in his tone, "Writ… Where is it..?"

The woman shook her head, her motion moving to hide her sensitive portions from the light and peering eyes, holding herself without any will, her eyes moving to a close, tight in her discomfort.

"Lies." The blue armored man voiced his thoughts, as if the thought was a shout and the voice was just an echo of his ideas.

The fallen king voiced back in his reaction, "She has nothing to lose if she admits to it…" His eyes moved intently upon the woman's, locking with her gaze as try as she might, she could not look away, "Understood…"

The woman slowly moved herself to sit, her eyes cast down upon the floor, staring at shadows and movements, silent and unmoving. A moment passed when her form jumped slightly, her surprise sourcing from the fallen king's quick smash of a gloved hand upon the floor, the intensity of his gaze weighing heavy on the woman.

A lump of imaginary mass moved down the woman's throat, her eyes moving to a close, her hold around herself tightening as she licked her lips, speaking slowly, "They… had my brother…"

The fallen king swore under his breath as the sound of steel by his side signaling armor movement followed his thoughts, his head tilting towards the blue clad man, his voice a monotony, "How far..?"

"Far enough." The blue clad man voice in reply, his head moving closer, his voice a slow whisper, "Managed to poison a captain and a sergeant. Nothing vital, minor poison."

The fallen king's brow arched slowly, his head tilting back to the woman, the sound of his voice an assuring tone, "That's quite far…" His head pulled towards the guard that had introduced them into the room, his eyes reflecting the jump of flames from the fireplace, "You… Take here, clothe her… She might prove useful…"

The guard nodded in reply, moving forth from the shadows with the evident sound of armor.

Before any other voice could object, the fallen king stood, moving back towards the table, his voice more of a command, "I'm tired… We take her with us; she links to 'them'… We march with the sun's horizon… Tell the men…"

He took a wooden plate, grabbing scraps of this and that, grasping the tankard of broth as well, voicing back before anyone else could speak, "And tell the cook that he performed excellently today… Either that or I'm just really hungry…"

The fallen king paused upon his step, staring at four doors upon the far wall, the smooth voice following his thoughts, almost amused in its tone, "Door to the far right."

The fallen king nodded his head, not looking back, the movement his only reply, taking his food, his steps taking him into his room, a simple set-up. Eyeing around at the candle-lit room, he shrugged to himself, able to satisfy himself with the meager accommodations, better than the usual cave or tree hollow that he slept on most of the time in the years that passed.

He moved to sit down upon the floor, setting his broth and the plate before him, his eyes moving towards the half opened door, narrowing his eyes slightly, his motion quickly followed with the rush of wind, pushing the door to a close. A sigh escaped his lips as he stared down upon the food, his eyes slowly moving towards his chest, upon the crimson gem, dull now, without any evidence of shimmering, where it never had the evidence of light for the years after the time, after she left.

A lump moved in difficulty down his throat, his hand grasping the gem tightly, his head tilting up towards the window, the moons only shadows of themselves, light from the skies emanating from stars scattered like beads that fell upon the floor. A chain unnoticeable clinked from his back, attached to its end was a tattered book, moving it to his vision, opening the entries, leafing through the pages with the scribbles in his own and writing.

One final page, staring into it, his free hand taking out a charcoal writing wedge, slowly moving its tip upon the paper's face…

_Final Snow Fall, Year of War Two, Phaentome Hall _

Has it already been two years? It seems that each day just passes without my notice. Finally, sanctuary, days and nights of slaughter and stealth have kept me away from respite, finally now I could catch up on my sleep. Only one thought itches in my mind, one thought that keeps me awake, one that keeps me sane. Foolish as it may sound, she is the only hold that keeps me moving on.

Hitomi…

Why I could never forget her is far beyond my reach. I could not realize the… impact she has on me. Each moment of silence, her words still echo in my mind, shouting in my head though they are just soft whispers, the comfort in her voice that makes me desire her presence even more… and the madness that follows knowing that she is gone.

Do I actually… miss her? I barely know her and yet, she made me see how much there is in me, how much I have forgotten, how much she… cared.

Someone cares? It is difficult to imagine that with each passing day she thinks of me. Two souls too far away for any to know what or where their paths have taken them, most probable that she has forgotten of me, maybe not.

I don't know…

But why..? Why does she care so much..? Why in a world where everyone is dying on me, she lives..? Why is she the brim of hope I could never imagine..?

The page had only a small space left, a short line silently scribbled.

_I wish you were here…  
_

He breathed out a heavy sigh, staring at the writings in his own hand, a recollection of everything that had kept him alive.

One word escaped his lips, slowly sliding from his throat and tongue yet with the ease and softness of escape, almost like that of silk, "Hitomi…"


	2. Sorrow's Path

Finally...

Chapter I

Sorrow's Path

The morning sun rested silently against the mountain ranges, a soft haze of golden light with a crimson crest enveloped the snow-covered peaks of the gigantic earth-forms that closed the entire valley from the east. Fluffs of white moved carefree upon the early morning skies, the bare light tracing the boundary of each delicate form upon the skies. The gentle blow of the winds whispered a silent poem upon the scene, a murmur of silence, almost of the velvet voice of a mother subtly stirring a new born child to wake. The silence of the plains since that very morning followed the rhythm of the tender rains, buds of flowers upon trees forming in a mellow manner, leaves filled with the dew only the dawn could bring. The cascade of the sun's light rushed slowly through the drizzle, a thousand rainbows coming into form, leaving just as quickly as the breath of white upon the cold first-light's air.

A silent figure stood motionless across the open field, shrouded by the gentle rainfall, his breath creating tendrils of white as it escaped his lips, reaching up to the skies in a mute prayer. The tattered short skirt around his lower body moved with the hum of the winds, lifting slightly then falling too slow only to be followed by another rush of the wind, bobbing slowly upon the half-darkness of early morning. A long sheathed blade wedged on his blade, near to his back, immovable against his form, shifting slightly with his breathing while he moved slowly down a solemn hillside, his steps almost procession of movements following an invisible straight line.

Wet hair fell limp and stringy upon his forehead and face, drips of water covering his almost all of his body, but none more evident than the two streams of moisture that ran in an almost perpendicular manner as the ground. A short cough echoed upon the empty fields, breaking the silence like a clang of a bell after a mid-day siesta, followed snuffled breath and a low grunt that rumbled upon the silent figure's throat.

The foot of the hill held a grim memory, a reminder of all who passed, even more so to him that now stands upon it; the terraces and mounds of land signaled by the grave stones of different shapes and sizes marked the large field before the silent figure, some holding individual entities side by side, others that formed circles or symbols of families that remained together even upon death, and the sad reminder of those who were unknown that fell, on large monuments of guardians, mass graves of unmarked men and women. The silent figure took in a deep and heavy breath, squaring his shoulders with the rush of an even heavier rain, where once the light had some semblance in this moment of the rooster's crow, now it was darkness that covered the whole horizon, with only the smallest hint of gold to show of any evidence of new morn. His right arm leaned against the hilt of his long blade, his free arm moving up to relieve the moisture from his eyes, red irises that marked of great depression upon this moment, heavy dark lines from below his eyes of deprivation of sleep. He took in another breath of if nothing else then hope, he moved with the same sullen feeling across the gray hushed graves.

His steps had taken him to the middle of all this grief, where one solitary grave stood as tall as a man, white of marble and recency, with intricate carvings written in the hand of one who had lost everything, who only held on to hope and nothing else. The silent figure stood before this structure, staring at it in a manner that took too long for anyone, but to him it was not even enough. Lightning crashed upon the clouds of black, thunder soon to follow, rocking the silence and shaking the very earth, the light enough to release the grave, if only for a moment, from the shadows. Sitting upon its foot laid three carvings of mice, one each for every moment that the silent figure had visited this past year, still unmoved as he had left it, all of which are evident of a crimson line against its backside.

He held back a heavy sob, gritted teeth hindering anymore sounds, almost in the manner of preventing more tears to flow with the movement of his eyes to a full close, wincing in the pain that rang against his mind, his heart, his soul. He could not move anymore, any closer to that small gravesite; he could not even carry himself as he was forced to lean down to a crouch, the force of his body lying even heavier upon him. His steps were of a haunted man, trudging against the mud, his right arm reaching around for his blade, still held sheathed upon his hand, the long steel covered in leather fell upon the ground to his side as a grunt escaped his gritted teeth followed by a bawl, his tears almost following the fall of the rains now across the open field.

He could not carry himself anymore, his lips quivering with breath of white tendrils that clamored for the skies. Redemption heavyset in his features of great depression, he knew no more than to let the rain hide his tears, but even the crash of thunder could not cover the howls of grunts that rumbled upon his throat. A lump remained heavy against his throat, a heavy cough growled as his form fell upon the muddied grounds, only his arms held him up from a face of dirt, clenching fists against the soft earth, shouting out the single name that ended the engravings of the silent gravestone.

_Merle_

One final stretch of his soul, one boost of himself, he flung his form against the stone structure, holding onto it almost as of dear life, an embrace of only a wish that he could've done the same when she were still upon the existence. But it has been too long, and each day the grief only grew stronger, and now that it marked the year's passing of such a dreaded incident, it is all that he could bear.

Voices started to whisper against his mind, calming and soothing yet they spoke of the truth that were thrusts of daggers against his heart. The voices moved in unison with the heavy winds and the rhythm of the storm cracked each moment with a beginning of the boom of thunder, where the voices sounded much in the same way as he did.

_There is no world that is worth all of this…_

His grip around the small monolith tightened all the more, straining his arms while almost knocking off all the air from his lungs. Heavy bellows snarled upon his chest and throat, tears mixed with the cold rain dripping down upon the gravestone, falling in trickles at its side until it reached the floors silently.

_This isn't happening…_

He fell even more towards the floor, his grasp around the grave not enough to hold him up from the weight of sorrow. His eyes moved to a full open, brow furrowing and forming a crest of rage upon his forehead, his lips parting almost to mouth out the words in his thoughts.

_There is no reason to go on…_

His eyes moved full closed as he braced himself, pulling his form to a stand, raising his eyes upon the skies with a push from the monolith, holding himself standing a step across from it as he released a shout to the skies, the thunder booming with his voice as lightning revealed his form, cursing the heavens itself.

"What Am I Fighting For!"

Last moments of dementia had passed and rushed through his body, his form knelt low upon the mud, fingers trailing the dull design upon the hilt of his blade, tracing the edge of the leather sheathe, his voice whispered in a way that only he can hear.

"Nothing else could be done… It could never have gone any other way…"

His hand held the sheathed blade tight with a grip that could choke a behemoth, quivering lips and shaking arms marked his movement as he held himself once again to move up into a stand, wobbling and shaking upon his feet, a manner of nothing else of strength.

"To survive… Where everyone else dies…"

His free hand wrapped tightly upon the battered hilt of his blade, his stance formed into a low crouch, carrying his weight upon the kneeled right leg, his eyes gleaming of fury.

"To live… With no one else to live with…"

The vision formed upon his mind, almost as clear as if she stood there right in front of him, the girl from the Mystic Moon, her arms held out to hold him, her voice a silent whisper, so gentle only a lover could give to anyone she loved for no reason at all than just for him alone.

_Dakishimeru…_

"Why?"

The question echoed in his mind, confusing and wracking his body with unknown warmth. Where all his life he only suffered, here she was, for no reason at all, to suffer with him, to carry his burden for no price, no reward, only to be with him.

_Why?_

The question burned in his mind, creating images of her that crashed upon him, his heart beating faster, filled with longing for the stranger, that woman that he only knew for so short a time, and for that short of time he could only deny that anything could ever happen, the very question once again immolating his mind.

_Why!_

But he knew of the words of prophecy, that she would return when they needed her the most, but half of him did not want her to return yet the other half wanted to seek the answer from the only person he knew would know with every breath in his being of knowing the great bliss with her return and the multiplier of his sorrow upon her departure. He had sent her off with a smile, the final real smile he could ever grant to anyone in this world or beyond it.

_Hitomi…_

The prophecy had been true, he had been the witness of it first hand, holding her in his arms in flight, her scent wafting upon him, almost of peach and something he could not quite know, and yet he loved every feeling it gave. But she would return, and he felt it upon his gut, his very motion and the turn of events were evidence of this, he was the lone wolf, who can not fight for anyone but himself. Fear racked against his brain while he tried to push out the very thought of upon her return, were it to be fated or not, were his will even to be followed from the moment he will hold her in his arms once again, he knew that he will not be able to…

_Kimi wo… Mamoru…_

The words that formed upon his mind pushed too hard, almost of a promise that was meant to be broken, regardless of how much he would want it to be true, yet still he made that promise out of the one thing that held him to live on, the one thing that kept him alive.

_Hope_

He had no reason to hope, no other explanation why, but as he calmed himself to a stand, long blade resting upon his belt, wedged near his back, he tried not to find any reason. No promises were needed, no promises to be made. He remember her smile as they rested with the sun's caress upon the mornings, her form upon a blouse long enough to act as a skirt against her body, and that she would be there with nothing else of a reason but only for him.

His eyes moved upon the gravestone for a moment, a breath of the air moving deep into his lungs as the storm winds slowly dissipated, revealing the dawn sun fully rested upon the mountain range, brushing off tears from his eyes.

"She will not suffer… The same fate…"

He turned his form, enveloped in the morning's warm embrace, steam of water making light wisps upon the air around him, his eyes at peace with the fury that they held within, his voice not of uncertainty or of a promise, a fact he stated with all his will.

"Never…"

N.B.

Dakishimeru - Hold me/Hug me

Kimi wo mamoru - I will protect you


End file.
